What He Has
by Candaru
Summary: Layton goes to congratulate his old friend Clark, but the visit is more painful than expected. Clark may have never been able to fulfill his dream of becoming a famous archeologist… but he has something Layton never will. (Oneshot, no slash, rated T for safety and brief death mentions. Takes place a few years before Last Specter.)


(A/N: As one of my reviewers has alerted me, I'm pretty sure the timeline in this fic is off, but it's too drastic to fix without major changes that I don't want to make. So just be aware to ignore the canon timeline here. l'D)

* * *

The sound of rain splashing against metal was often considered to be a sad-sounding noise, but Professor Hershel Layton never really minded it. Admittedly, it did make the roads a little harder to navigate, but the mud on the tires of the Laytonmobile would be worth the flowers that would benefit and eventually blossom into vibrant colors of life. The lush greenery on the sides of the muddy dirt road was already beautiful, to be sure, but a splash of extra color never hurt a landscape.

Layton eased up on the accelerator as he reached the crest of the hill, double-checking his map as the car began descending. His old friend Clark had taken the liberty of sending the map to his house in pieces like a jigsaw puzzle— a simple one, which took nary a minute to put back together, but an enjoyable one which was appreciated nonetheless. As he drove, the Professor's mind ambled between a slight disappointment for having been too occupied to visit until now, and excitement to get to his destination. He regrettably hadn't been able to make it to the big celebration earlier in the month, but… a small, personal meeting wasn't such a disagreeable setup. At any length, he would surely have more time to talk with Clark and Brenda if they weren't surrounded by other guests.

The car slowed to a stop, drops of water rolling down the side as Layton opened the door and stepped out into the rain. He quickly pulled his umbrella off the side seat and opened it, holding his arm abnormally high so as to cover his hat as well as his head. (Truth be told, the Professor didn't really mind if the rest of him got wet. But the hat was to be shielded from the elements at all costs.)

A short walk up to a small house, a knock on the door, and a friendly call later, Layton was greeted by two smiling faces.

"Hershel! Do come in!" Clark waved his friend inside, motioning to his wife sitting on the couch. The living room was homely, and the warm shelter from the rainfall made it even cozier. Brenda smiled and waved to the Professor, her long hair thrown over her shoulder in a simple braid and a hand-knit blanket thrown over her lap. The entire scene was picturesque, like something out of an old novel about living on the prairie— not that the town was _that_ desolate, but the small stature of it all and the abundance of nature had the same effect.

"Hello, Clark, Brenda," Layton greeted.

"Hello, Professor," Brenda replied kindly. "Won't you take off your—"

"Now, what were you thinking, making us wait so long to see you?" Clark asked teasingly, cutting his wife off.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to make it for the big meet-and-greet," Layton sighed.

"Ah, you're too hard on yourself, I was only joking. Why don't you go say hello to the guest of honor?" The man smiled and motioned towards his wife.

Layton nodded and started walking slowly towards the couch. At his approach, Brenda smiled and gently removed the blanket from her lap, revealing a curled-up bundle of cloth in her arms. A tiny face peered out from the cloud-dotted blue fabric, half-awake. Brenda turned it so it had a better view of the Professor, who knelt down with a kind smile. The baby blinked and sat up slowly, seeming intrigued by the strange new visitor.

"Luke, say hello to Hershel," Brenda instructed jokingly, with the warmest voice imaginable. The baby stared at the strange man with huge, glittering eyes full of curiosity.

"Hello, Luke," Layton said, as if the infant could understand him. "It's very nice to meet you." He extended his hand out, offering a handshake. Brenda reached to make her son accept the handshake as a joke, but before she got the chance Luke suddenly lunged out and grabbed the man's index finger with both of his tiny hands.

And then— he _laughed._

Layton felt every bone in his body freeze like ice. The warm, joking expression fled his face, replaced by flashes of pain and remembrance and—

He quickly snapped himself back to reality, and the terrified look on his face was gone as fast as it had come on. Little Luke either hadn't noticed or didn't mind, as he just kept smiling while fumbling to keep Layton's finger in his grip. Layton smiled back and poked him gently in the chest, causing him to abruptly shriek with laughter.

"He seems quite easy to please," Layton noted as Luke's high-pitched giggles rang through the small living room. "Does he cry often?"

"Hardly a'tall. He's an angel," replied the boy's mother with a soft sigh. She stroked the top of her boy's head as Layton gently prodded his pajama-clad chest.

"We really are lucky," Clark said, standing a little ways off from the meeting party. "He's very well behaved. Now to hope that it lasts," he laughed.

"I'm sure you'll be an excellent father, Clark," Layton reassured him. "If he grows up to be as well behaved as he is now, it will be because you taught him."

The brown-haired man chuckled at this, but there was a hint of concern behind his voice. "Well, thank you; I can only hope to prove your faith in me correct. Would you like to hold him?"

Layton looked up, startled. Brenda seemed as though she hadn't expected the offer, either.

"Oh, no, I don't think—" Layton started, but Clark cut him off.

"Nonsense, Hershel. You've always been a natural with children. Just support his head, eh?" He nodded to his wife, who reluctantly handed the tiny human over. Luke hesitated for a moment, reaching back for his mother, but then his infantile curiosity kicked in again and he allowed the Professor to take him.

Layton breathed in sharply as the warm, wriggling bundle settled into his arms. He held him exactly as he'd seen Brenda doing, which seemed to calm her nerves.

 _Don't think about it. Don't even think about it,_ Layton instructed himself, staring at the little boy. He was just over a month old; wisps of light brown hair had started appearing on top of his head, but he still retained some of his chubby baby fat, hidden under the soft blue onesie that had probably been given as a gift. His black eyes darted in every direction, although they often returned to the Professor's face, blinking at him like he was asking the man who he was and why he was holding him.

 _He's so young, and already so curious…_

"Shall I—" Brenda started, but her husband cut her off once again.

"Oh! Of course, how could we be so rude. Hershel, would you like a spot of tea?" Clark asked.

"Why, yes, actually, thank you," Layton replied, glancing away for hardly a second from the child in his arms. That second, however, was enough to catch the look of confusion and slight frustration on Brenda's face. Clearly offering tea was not her original intention, but she got up anyway and headed into the kitchen.

"Thank you, dear," Clark said, kissing her on the cheek as she walked into the next room over. He then grew quiet, and the room was silent for a moment.

"Well, it seems that you've finally achieved your dream to become an archeologist," he said to Layton. There was the slightest trace of jealousy in his voice.

"I still spend most of my time teaching. I haven't really done anything of much notable value yet, at least not as far as ancient ruins are concerned," he replied with a shrug.

"As humble as ever," Clark said in an almost dejected voice. "Well, I suppose that— Oh!" He gasped. "I've just realized, Brenda doesn't know how you take your tea. I'll be right back." He hurried into the kitchen, leaving Layton alone with his thoughts.

"Mm," Layton mumbled in response, not looking up. His gaze was now firmly affixed on Luke, who shifted around in his arms and occasionally made contented cooing noises.

He was so _small._

So small and innocent…

So eager to see the world…

So alive and excited and…

 _It's not fair._ Flares of anger burned up in quick, spontaneous blasts, and Layton fought to suppress them.

 _Stop it! A gentleman would never harbor ill feelings towards another's good fortune! Think about Clark, you fool._

He _was_ happy for Clark. His friend deserved the happy little life he'd made for himself, and more. He was always a hard worker, and a natural leader. Besides, he'd given up so much to make this dream come true— he even had to quit studying archeology to be there for Brenda while she was pregnant. Not that he could never reclaim his dream, of course, but…

 _I'd give it up,_ a quiet voice in Layton's head whispered. His muscles tensed at the thought and he looked down at Luke as if pleading for him to help him fight off the voices. Seeing the boy's face only made them worse.

 _I'd give it up and I know it._

 _I'd anything I own up in a heartbeat._

 _I'd quit my job and my dream and my life as I know it if I could just—_

 _If I'd been able to—_

 _If that explosion—_

 _If Claire hadn't—!_

"Here you are, Hershel."

Layton startled out of his thoughts as Clark walked over with a cup of tea on a plate. Brenda followed, carrying identical cups for her and her husband.

"Thank you," Layton said with a smile. He didn't think anyone could tell that it was forced. _Anger. Frustration. Jealousy. Stop it._

"Here," Brenda said. She set her own cups down on the table near the couch and reached out to take Luke so Layton could drink his tea.

The archeologist hesitated. _I don't want to. I don't want to let him go._

But this was the Tritons' child, not his. With another forced nod of gratitude he reluctantly handed over the baby boy, who made a pleased noise at seeing his mother's face.

Layton's hands trembled around the hot cup as he drank his tea. He conversed with the Tritons for a good few hours, even going out into the town with them when the rain stopped (Clark had a small carrier for Luke, who looked around with wide eyes at everything he saw) and swapping a few puzzles with his old friend. He enjoyed his time with them, he really did.

But when the sun began to sink lower in the sky and it was time for the drive back home, Layton stepped into his car with a heavy heart. The sounds of water on the rooftop were gone, replaced by a traitorous silence that let all the thoughts in the archeologist's head come flooding back as he drove away, the whole Triton family waving him off.

 _It's not that I'm not happy for them. I swear on every puzzle I've ever solved that I am._

 _I just—_

Layton's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as the car drove up the hill, the budding flowers in the bushes taunting him. He forced himself to listen to the silence rather than the thoughts that threatened to make him pull over if he let them in. The Professor had sworn to himself not to grow bitter, but the remnants of whispers remained in the back of his mind the whole drive home.

 _Clark, I may have the best job imaginable. But even if I made the greatest archeological find of all time and got my name in all the papers and made a fortune to surpass the richest man on earth, nothing would compare to what you have now._

 _You, Clark, have the world._

* * *

(A/N: Reviews are food for my muse :))


End file.
